Dear Sakura
Fireflies and Cherry Blossoms
by Amazoness Duo and G.P.
amazonessduo@hotmail.com
pearsong1954@yahoo.com
“This is just what I needed. Work has been so busy lately, hasn’t
it, Tomoyo-chan? I think we both needed a chance to finally relax for
once,” Sonomi observed as she and her daughter walked around all of
the booths that had been set up at the shrine. The two Daidouji women
were resplendent in their kimonos. Sonomi had become more and more
concerned about her daughter’s welfare after finding her crying near
the mailbox several days earlier. But as usual, Tomoyo had tried
desperately not to worry her. And if Sonomi couldn’t get Tomoyo to
tell her what was wrong, how could she help? Of course, she had a
fairly good idea of what was bothering Tomoyo. Sakura. Sonomi
mentally twitched at the thought. Sakura was such a wonderful girl,
but the business woman was having a very difficult time keeping her
anger in check when it came to the Cardmistress. Seeing her daughter
in so much pain was heart wrenching to the distraught mother. Ever
since Tomoyo had returned from Hong Kong, something heavy had been
weighing down on the dark haired girl’s soul. Sonomi had been
thrilled to hear about Tomoyo’s experiences with Nadeshiko’s
daughter, but it seemed that her daughter had brought back something
other than happy memories from her trip. Something dark that had
wrapped around Tomoyo’s heart, it’s thorns piercing the gentle
object. So Sonomi had tried to get Tomoyo away from it all by taking
her out to a festival. The business woman dealt with her own pain by
focusing on other things, whether it be work or athletics or her
daughter. It helped her to forget that she had lost the one most dear
to her. It allowed her to be distracted from the ice cold anguish
that languished in her heart. She only hoped that the same thing
would help her precocious daughter.
“Hai, okaa-sama. It’s been very busy lately with the new deadline
coming up. But I’m sure that even with the added pressure, you’ll
have everything perfectly wrapped up in time. You always do such a
wonderful job of keeping things under control,” Tomoyo’s soft voice
replied. Pale fingers brushed back her braided hair from her eyes as
she looked forward. Noticing that Sonomi was watching her carefully,
she plastered on her typically charming smile and shined it at her
mother, though it felt fake and see through to her. She hadn’t wanted
to go and would have protested, but she didn’t want to worry her
mother. Poor Sonomi had been through enough without seeing the pain
in Tomoyo’s shattered heart. She needed to hold on long enough so as
not to concern the older woman. But it was so difficult to keep a
grasp on her masks. They felt brittle, translucent. Her inner turmoil
was making it impossible to hide the pain for much longer. So this
would be her last performance. When this show was over, she would
once and for all throw her masks away, tossing away the once
cherished mental barriers that had up till now protected those she
loved from her own pain. After all, there would be no one to worry
about hurting after that so they wold no longer be necessary. But for
now, she would perform her best for her mother. The thought reminded
her of when she was a child, how she had always sang her best when
Sakura had been in the audience or when Sonomi had managed to sneak
away from work long enough to listen to her daughter’s singing on
stage. It brought a small, sad smile to her lips. She always had
performed the best for those two, whether it be singing or hiding her
feelings. Unfortunately, it worked a lot better on Sakura than it did
with Sonomi. Her mother always managed to see through her to the
feelings inside.
Sonomi nodded in agreement, her stormy blue eyes settling on the
beautiful visage of her daughter. ‘Oh my God, she looks so much like
Nadeshiko-chan... I swear that she and Sakura-chan must have been
switched at birth. She’s so much like her. So loving. So gentle. So
sweet. Nadeshiko-chan always went out to care for animals and
anything that looked like it was in pain. Tomoyo-chan has done the
same with the hearts of others. She’ll never know how much she’s
helped ease the pain in my own heart. But it’s not fair that no one
can take away her pain,’ Sonomi thought to herself, still half in
shock at seeing Tomoyo in the moonlight. The younger girl could have
passed herself off as Nadeshiko at that age perfectly. Her pale skin
and dark hair, her sweet smile, they all painted a picture from long
ago. Sonomi smiled brightly, brushing away some of Tomoyo's dark hair
from her face. “You look so gorgeous, Tomoyo-chan! You’ve grown into
such a lovely young woman. I always knew that you’d surpass Goddesses
in their beauty.” Sonomi watched her daughter as she dug through her
purse for her camera. When was the last time the mother and daughter
had gone to a festival together? She had to have a picture of this.
Tomoyo was practically shining in her kimono. The picture would look
perfect right next to a picture of Nadeshiko in a kimono just a year
or two younger. “I’m going to take a picture, Tomoyo-chan. I want to
be able to look back on tonight.” ‘Especially if you’re leaving,’
Sonomi added glumly as an afterthought. She already knew that Tomoyo
was moving out, but she suspected that her reasons were far more
complex than simply wanting to get out on her own. The pain in
Tomoyo’s eyes was a fairly good indicator to Sonomi of that. She had
come to the conclusion that her daughter wanted to escape the pain,
that she was leaving to try and put it behind her. Sonomi couldn’t
fault her baby girl with that. She had done the same thing when
Nadeshiko had married Fujitaka, leaving shortly after the wedding and
breaking all her ties with the only person she had ever loved. It was
the only way she could survive. She would never have been able to
stay near her cousin while she was happily married to the man who had
stolen her away. She guessed that it was the same for Tomoyo, that
she hoped to outdistance the pain. If only it were that easy. But
Sonomi knew that it may be the only way for Tomoyo to handle the
agony of never having her love returned.
Tomoyo tilted her head to the side, clasping her hands in front of
her as she smiled sweetly. The camera clicked and whirred as Sonomi
took her picture. Time froze in that instant, a single memory frozen
forever on film. The picture of a shattered girl hiding behind her
tattered and unraveling masks, crying helplessly underneath the smile
that she shined out at the camera. Despite her smile, Sonomi would
forever find the picture disturbing, never quite sure what was wrong
with the beautiful picture. When she looked at it long enough, she
would almost be able to see her daughter’s tears, the agony on her
face and the pain in her torn heart. But after a cold chill would
pass down her spine, the image would be gone, replaced once again
with the slightly disturbing picture of Tomoyo smiling in her kimono.
And with that, time continued along its inevitable path. Tomoyo
continued to hold her hands in front of her as she and her mother
glanced around curiously at the decorations and the festival goers.
Tomoyo was wearing a delicate teal kimono with dark blue flower petal
designs across it, like flowers floating on a calm ocean. Sonomi’s
kimono was a rust red, multicolored flowers adorning its design as if
bouquets had been sewn into the red fabric. The two Daidouji women
turned several heads as they continued along under the moonlight,
though neither paid any attention.
Sighing inwardly, Sonomi wished that there was some way that she
could take away her daughter’s hurt, that she could assume all of the
dark haired girl’s suffering for herself. Watching Tomoyo slowly
splinter apart was maddening for the already overprotective mother.
It was much more painful to see the most important piece of her life
begin to crack and break apart than it was to deal with her own pain.
With the loss of Nadeshiko she could mourn or fume in anger over the
man who had stolen her precious cousin away from her. But there was
nothing she could do for her delicate daughter. She felt trapped by
her own helplessness, and it was suffocating her. As Tomoyo’s mother,
it was impossible for her not to feel the torment of her baby girl.
Having lived through the same pain herself, Sonomi would give
anything to take it away from her daughter. Then she would have
something to fight, something that she could actually do to fix the
situation. It wasn’t fair that Tomoyo’s heart was just as doomed as
her mother’s to an eternity of loneliness. What had the young woman
done to deserve such an agonizing fate? Who had she ever wronged?
Tomoyo had been nothing but selfless in her love for Sakura. She
deserved her storybook ending and it tore at Sonomi’s heart to see
that denied to her little girl.
What made the situation all the more unbearable for the head of the
Daidouji household was that it was Sakura behind her daughter’s
suffering. Cute, genki, innocent Sakura-chan. Sonomi had only the
highest regards of Sakura for years. The sweet little schoolgirl had
brightened her life nearly as much as she had brightened Tomoyo’s.
And the fact that she was Nadeshiko’s daughter was not lost on
Sonomi. Even if there were more similarities between Nadeshiko and
Tomoyo than between Nadeshiko and her actual daughter, Sonomi had
always managed to catch a glimpse of Sakura’s mother in her. And she
had always been such a delight to have around. Sonomi understood
completely how her daughter had fallen in love with the spirited and
somewhat naïve woman. So it pained her all the more to know that
Sakura was the one that caused her daughter’s tears again and again.
It was almost a contradiction that such a sweetly lovable girl like
Sakura would be capable of the brutal pain that battered Tomoyo’s
heart. This same contradiction was what confused Sonomi’s own
thoughts. She thought very highly of Sakura. Cared very much for the
young woman, in fact, as Nadeshiko’s daughter, the one Tomoyo loved,
and as a wonderful girl in her own right. But Sonomi was also
fiercely protective of those she cared about, and with Nadeshiko
gone, the one that took highest priority on her list was her gentle
daughter, Tomoyo. And seeing Sakura causing such devastation to her
daughter was something that she simply couldn’t forgive. Yet she
couldn’t bring herself to hate Sakura. Not in the same way that she
hated Fujitaka, the girl’s father. She genuinely liked Sakura and was
always pleasantly charmed by her company. She had been nearly as
captivated by the brunette as her daughter always was. So it was very
difficult for her to sort out these conflicting feelings.
But seeing the painful shards in Tomoyo’s usually deep and soulful
indigo eyes had pushed Sonomi to reevaluate her feelings towards the
Cardmistress. How could Sakura treat her daughter’s heart as if it
was some mere trinket? Something that she could ignore and take for
granted? Such an act showed just how terribly Sakura had failed her
best friend and Sonomi’s one and only daughter. Anyone who could
bring tears to Tomoyo’s lovely eyes was guilty of a terrible sin to
the dark haired beauty. Yet Tomoyo could never bring herself to be
angry with Sakura, could never fault the brunette’s naivete for the
pain it caused her. On the other hand, her mother wasn’t quite as
forgiving. ‘Sonomi-chan, you’re not still mad at him, are you?’
Nadeshiko’s voice gently chided, deep from within Sonomi’s memories.
As always, it was accompanied by the most dazzling of smiles, of
which one always graced Nadeshiko’s beautiful features. Nadeshiko was
so much like her daughter in that way. Never one to get angry, even
when she had every right to be, always having such a remarkably
touching faith that things would turn out all right. But Sonomi was
starting to fear that her daughter was losing that faith. And with
it, her daughter’s soul began to crumble like a house of cards.
‘Yes... Yes, I’m still angry with him, Nadeshiko-chan... But not just
for beating me at track the time when you said that. No, I will never
forgive him for stealing everything from me. Most importantly, for
taking you away. And now his daughter’s doing the same thing to my
baby girl,’ Sonomi mentally replied to her cousin’s question from
years long past. Her eyes narrowed as she once again saw the familiar
features of the man that had managed to single handedly ruin her
life. To her surprise, his face shifted into someone else entirely.
Tilting her head to the side, Sakura smiled sweetly.
Nearly backpedaling from the sight, Sonomi was relieved to see that
it had only been her imagination. A young girl stared at her
awkwardly for a moment before running off to find her mother. Placing
her hand on her chest, the business woman began to breathe deeply,
trying to relax her thunderously beating heart. It had only been her
already overworked mind playing along with her thoughts. Not that she
needed that at the moment. She was too busy trying to... “Tomoyo-
chan?” Turning around, Sonomi tried to catch a glimpse of her
daughter but to no avail. While she had been lost in her thoughts,
Tomoyo had disappeared. Panic gripped at the business woman’s heart
as she scanned the crowds for any sign of pale skin or lavender hair.
Though Tomoyo was a young woman now and capable of taking care of
herself, Sonomi felt the irrational fear that she would never see her
cherished daughter again. Her mind quickly reassured her that it
simply wasn’t the case, but it was cold comfort. And she was
generally one to listen to her feelings over her thoughts. And her
feelings were telling her that something was terribly wrong. That she
had to hurry to her daughter’s side before it was too late. But what
would she be too late for?
Tomoyo walked silently out into a clearing, devoid of anything but
the soft sparkle of fireflies as they lit the sky around her. A
small, sad smile crossed her lips in remembrance of watching Sakura
catch the Glow Card out on a similar night. Those tiny little
floating lights in the air were so similar to the Clow Card’s own
gentle glow. Sakura had been so happy that night, spending time with
her crush at the time, Yukito Tsukishiro, under the moonlight. And
Tomoyo had been more than happy to watch the two of them from the
safety of some bushes, delighting in Sakura’s cute blush and the
brunette’s ecstasy of spending time with the snow rabbit. Why wasn’t
that enough for her anymore? Why couldn’t she be content to watch
Sakura’s life through a camcorder lens the way she always had?
Fanren’s words returned to Tomoyo in answer to her unspoken
question. Because her own heart was always pouring out love to
Sakura, it was empty inside. And her brittle heart was collapsing
under its own weight. She couldn’t continue to watch Sakura married
and living a life that really didn’t need her. Tomoyo was only human.
Even she couldn’t handle watching the one she loved forever in love
with someone else. It only made her own lonely heart cry out even
more into the moonlight, making it ache incessantly more. It had been
what she wanted, to make Sakura happy by any means necessary. And she
had given up Sakura to Syaoran in the hopes that he could make her
happy. “As long as the one I love is happy, it doesn’t matter if they
love me,” Tomoyo whispered, repeating words from a happier childhood.
And it was true, she wanted Sakura to be happy above all else. But
seeing it, actually watching Sakura’s new happy life unfold, it only
made the loneliness in Tomoyo’s heart more poignant, more acute. Her
love for Sakura actually made it infinitely worse for her because it
just reinforced the emptiness in her heart. Knowing that the most
important person in her life no longer needed her, that she was no
longer necessary was a chilling revelation. With that, all purpose
from her life seemed to disappear like mist on a sunny morning. She
had devoted so much of her life to Sakura that the prospect of no
longer being useful to the brunette was devastating. But even then,
at least she would be able to watch Sakura. But even that was beyond
her now. Every time that Sakura came to her about her husband, about
her happy new life, it hurt her. It hurt her to know that she was not
a part of it, that she could never be a part of it. To see the two of
them in love, to know that Sakura’s love was for someone else alone,
it left her frail and weak. She now knew why her mother had left when
Nadeshiko had gotten married. It was simply too painful to stay and
watch the one you love while they love another.
Tomoyo had wrestled with her feelings about leaving for quite a
while before that, so she understood what lay behind them. Her fear
of ruining Sakura’s happy life and her need to get away from the pain
that haunted her while she remained in Sakura’s life had all played a
part in her decision. She already regretted her decision terribly,
but knew that she really had no other choice. To stay in Sakura’s
life would be to invite disaster. If she didn’t ruin the brunette’s
marriage when Sakura discovered her feelings, her heart would die
from remaining to watch it all. So this was for the best. But somehow
that knowledge did little to comfort the lavender haired heiress. She
would never see Sakura again, even if it was the only way out. Tears
began to trickle down her cheeks as she held herself in the cold
night. That was the way it always was. She was all alone, holding her
feelings inside. And it was the way things always would be. A life
devoid of Sakura felt incredibly empty, like life in a vacuum. But
wasn’t that what her videotape collection was for? Somehow those
collections of frozen images and captured memories felt poorly
inadequate now. She wanted the real Sakura. She longed for her touch,
for her soft voice and her beautifully hopeful eyes. The videotapes
were now a painful reminder of what she could never have, of what she
would never again behold. Yet they were her only taste left of
Sakura. Her last great treasure. Even if they were bittersweet, they
were beautiful moments with Sakura, captured forever on videotape. So
she would always have them to drown in, beautiful memories to
surround herself with. They would make a wonderful coffin, one of
cute moments, dizzying costumes, and the always energetic Sakura. And
she could bury herself in them.
That had felt like her only means of escape, her only way to
survive without Sakura. But now she had to wonder if even that would
be enough. Her life felt woefully empty without the captivating
brunette. And she knew that nothing, not even her videotapes, could
ever truly replace her. Of course, that was never what the videos
were intended for. They were her documentary of Sakura, her footage
of time long ago, more like memories than anything else. And just
like memories, they paled in comparison to the real thing.
So just how could she survive a life without Sakura? Her stormy blue
eyes closed, her braided hair fluttering around in the biting breeze
as she tried to concentrate on just what a life might entail. The
wind whispered in her ear as the fireflies continued their endless
dance up above her. Sound could be heard in the distance as the
festival continued for those merry enough to join in. Nothing... She
could see nothing. It was as if her life’s journey ended once she was
without Sakura. And even if she continued on with such a life, what
meaning would their be to it? What possible purpose could it serve?
Like a clock that had wound down, it would be cold and meaningless.
Just like her masks, it would be pretty, but absolutely false. It
would be empty. Is a life lived merely for the sake of living really
worth living at all? Would it not be better to join Sakura’s mother
up in the skies above, to watch down on Sakura and her mother rather
than to continue forward helplessly alone and lost in the dark?
“Tomoyo-chan!! There you are!” Sonomi called out as she hurried to
meet her daughter in the clearing. She smiled in relief, glad to see
that her daughter was in no trouble after all. But a closer glance
made her rethink that. She could see wet tears on her daughter’s
cheeks, though the pale girl quickly wiped them away with the sleeve
of her kimono. Perhaps she was in no physical danger, but Sonomi was
beginning to think that was the least of her problems. “Tomoyo-chan,
what’s wrong?” she asked quietly, her hands resting on the dark
haired woman’s shoulders.
Tomoyo didn’t meet her mother’s gaze for a long moment, and it took
all of her strength to attempt a smile as she finally turned to look
at Sonomi. “It’s nothing. I’m fine, okaa-sama,” she said quietly. But
she knew at once that she had failed miserably. Sonomi didn’t look
the least bit swayed by her words, concern etched on her face.
“Tomoyo-chan, I’m your mother. I know that’s not true. Please, tell
me what’s wrong. I need to know,” Sonomi whispered. She cupped
Tomoyo’s chin when the younger girl tried to avert her gaze, stormy
blue eyes meeting stormy blue eyes.
The dark haired girl balked at first, unsure of what to say to her
mother. Explanations popped to mind, all specifically tailored to
diffuse her mother’s worry. But she felt too weak to use any of them.
With a sobbing breath, Tomoyo let go of her masks, their remains
shattering uselessly in the wind. “I don’t know how to say goodbye,”
the pale heiress whispered as fresh tears made their way down her
cheeks and past Sonomi’s waiting hand. Her whole body felt consumed
with despair, eating away at every bit of her soul. She had failed at
protecting those she cared about with her masks, first in front of
Sakura and now with her mother. She could only hope that her masks
had held when writing her last letter to Sakura, but the brunette was
probably still angry with her or at least confused about why Tomoyo
would leave. And Tomoyo would understand if Sakura was angry with
her. As long as Sakura was happy in her new life, it didn’t matter.
But she didn’t have that same safeguard with her mother. She knew
that leaving could very well hurt her mother terribly. And when she
left, her mother wouldn’t have the one she loved and a happy new life
to fall back on. Which is why she had tried so hard not to worry her
mother with her departure. She had never wanted to hurt the older
woman. It’s just that she couldn’t stay any longer. She was too
consumed with grief. She had to get away. It would only hurt her
mother if she stayed.
Sonomi smiled softly, her own eyes glittering with tears as her
hands moved to Tomoyo’s tear stained cheeks. “Oh, Tomoyo-chan... Is
that what this is about?” She shook her head, laughing slightly. It
was a pained sound, but it was honest. “I understand, my little girl.
I know you have to put all of this behind you. I know that you can’t
stay and let the pain devour you. I did the same thing when I left
Nadeshiko-chan when she got married. I couldn’t stay. Even now, I
have so many regrets about that. I only saw her for such a brief time
before she died. I missed out on so many years of her life. But I
don’t think I could have survived if I had stayed there with her
during her marriage to Fujitaka. The human heart just isn’t made to
handle that kind of pain. I don’t think I would have survived at all
if it hadn’t been for you, Tomoyo-chan. You gave me a reason to live.
You were my sweet little girl. You were the one person that I could
always love and cherish, who I knew would forever be a part of me.”
Tears of her own fell down her cheeks, though she continued to smile
at her quietly sobbing daughter. “And I thank you so much for that.
You gave me so much in life that I thought had been lost forever. I
was so consumed by sorrow and anger that I had forgotten the things
that make life worth living. You brought them all back to me. So I
understand if you have to flee all of this. I was happy to try and
keep you with me as long as I could, even if I knew this was
inevitable. You have to let a baby bird fly free some day. Just like
my angel, Nadeshiko-chan. I couldn’t protect her forever. And even
though I wish dearly that I could always protect you, Tomoyo-chan, I
know that I can’t.”
Tomoyo’s mind spun as she considered the similarities between
herself and her mother’s cousin. ‘I want to be an angel,’ she thought
to herself. Oh, to be able to soar above this mortal coil, to escape
the anguish that now seemed a permanent aspect of life, to be able to
watch Sakura and protect her, it all sounded like a dream. But there
was a darker side to her mother’s words. And Tomoyo felt them
instantly. She hugged her mother tightly, still crying weakly against
the slightly taller woman. “But I don’t want to leave you like that.
I know how much it hurt you when you lost her. I would never want to
hurt you like that, okaa-sama... Sometimes I think you’re the only
person who ever really knew me.” She closed her eyes tightly, trying
to stop the onslaught of fresh tears. “You always understood how I
felt about Sakura-chan. You know how much it hurts not to be with the
one you love. I don’t want to leave you, but...”
Silencing her daughter with a kiss on her forehead, Sonomi hugged
Tomoyo tightly. “Shhh... I know. I know.” The older woman smiled
softly. “Not that you didn’t make it difficult enough to know you.
You always did have a tendency to hide your feelings when you didn’t
want to burden someone. But you’re my little girl, so I had to see
through it.” She paused, brushing Tomoyo’s hair out of her eyes. “I
don’t want you to hurt like this, Tomoyo-chan. I don’t want to see
you so heartbroken. And if leaving is the only way that you can heal
your broken heart, then I have to accept that. But please... If you
can ever come back, or even if you could just write me a letter to
know what my darling daughter has been up to...” Her voice trailed
off.
Tomoyo burst into pain wracked sobs, clutching onto her mother. She
couldn’t even promise that she could send her a letter. How could she
just abandon her mother like that? But Sonomi was right. She couldn’t
stay. She had to fade away. She had to disappear before it was too
late for everyone. “I’m so sorry, okaa-sama...” Tomoyo got out
between sobs, her head resting on Sonomi’s shoulder.
Standing there, holding onto her daughter, Sonomi finally made her
decision. She hated Sakura. She hated the girl for all she had done
to her daughter, for all of the anguish she had caused her only
child. Holding Tomoyo tightly, Sonomi could only rock back and forth,
humming a gentle lullaby that she used to sing to Tomoyo when she was
only a child. She only wished that it still held the same power to
put the dark haired girl into a peaceful slumber. Standing in the
moonlight, surrounded by fireflies, the mother and daughter cried
together. Over lost love, over the end of the beginning, and over the
death of hope.